


Dear Mark

by MadSophHatter



Series: A Collection of Pride Drabbles [2]
Category: Pride (2014)
Genre: Angst, Grieving, Illness, Letter, Loss, M/M, coping with loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadSophHatter/pseuds/MadSophHatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Mark has passed away from Aids, Mike is in mourning. He writes a letter to his boyfriend to try and sort out his feelings. This is the letter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Mark

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are based on the characters seen in the film Pride. They don't belong to me and have nothing to do with the real people going by the same names.

Dear Mark,

you’ve been gone for quite a while now and I’m still waiting for the day when that won’t hurt me at least once a minute. Gethin was the one who said that writing this letter might help me to come to terms with my feelings, to get over you somehow, to say goodbye.

It’s ridiculous really. I don’t want to get over you. It feels unfair and like I’d be letting you down. Right now I feel like I’ll be grieving for you forever. But people look at me like I’m crazy when I say that out loud. So I’ve stopped saying it. But the thought never leaves me.

I’m quite pathetic, having to say goodbye like this. After all I got to actually say goodbye to you. I know that’s a lot more than most of the others get. I should be grateful for it, but at some times I wish I hadn’t gone to that room. I did it for you, you know? I hope it helped you. It certainly didn’t do any good for me. Seeing you like that was so surreal, looking all frail and tiny in that hospital bed, with a tube coming out of your throat. I’ll never forget the way you held on to my hand, your grip weak like you were an old man. I still have nightmares of that room. I wonder if they’ll ever stop.

Seeing you like that was awful, because in a way that frail person in that bed wasn’t really you anymore. It’s like the illness took away the essence of what was you. But your eyes were the same. There was still fight in your eyes, right up until the end and I try to hold on to that.

I miss you so much. There are so many things I thought I’d miss, like kissing you, or feeling your hands on my body, or your fiery speeches. You were always so loud, so very there. That makes your absence even more suffocating to me. The good thing about that is that I’m always acutely aware of the fact that you’re gone. There are only few moments where I almost forget that you’re not here, that you’re not just off to the shops or in the bathroom and will be back in a minute. 

I only have those moments when I wake up in the morning. Then my sleep-addled brain leads me to believe that I can smell tea and toast from the kitchen. When I’m about to get up I half-expect to find you there, sitting at the kitchen table, breakfast ready, still half in drag. And you’d have that smile on your face.

That’s actually what I miss most. That ridiculously bright smile that got you the attention of everyone in the room. That fucking bright smile that could light up any of my days, no matter how dark. What would I give to see that again?!

Before I get up I always remember though. I always remember that you and your smile won’t be in the kitchen. So I don’t get up because I can’t bear to see that gaping hole where you’re supposed to be. Just the thought of the empty kitchen, the empty living room, the empty bed, our empty flat it breaks my heart every time.

But I’m getting better, I think. These delusions don’t happen on a daily basis anymore. Sometimes I’m even able to get out of bed in the morning, making my own tea and toast, sitting at the table. Like a big boy. You’d be proud.

I know you wouldn’t want me to be like this. I know you’d want me to use my time on this earth to do something meaningful. But it’s hard so have some patience with me, okay? I’m trying. I really am. But right now just breathing seems like an awfully great effort not worth taking. 

But I know I can do this. I will get over this even though I’ll never get over you. I wouldn’t want that anyway. I will never forget you. I will never love anyone the way I loved you. That big old smile of yours will forever be with me. But sometime I’ll be able to let go of this pain and just be grateful that I was allowed to know you. I feel honoured to have been able to walk a bit of the way at your side. I’ll remember how happy we were. And I’ll finally be able to see you as the man you were again, not just as that feeble figure in a hospital bed.

Just give me some time.

Love,

Mike

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic or have any constructive criticism, please let me know. I'm always happy about kudos and comments. Thanks.
> 
> If you want any more Pride headcanons or drabbles, have a look on my tumblr. There I'm called lilbasthet.


End file.
